Abby and Hook OneShot: The Subtle Art of Tailoring
by HollyShadow88
Summary: A Valentine's (okay, it has nothing to do with Valentine's Day) Day oneshot! Basically just a little more interaction between Hook and Abby, delving into her past as a tailor a bit more.


Storybrooke OneShot – "The Subtle Art of Tailoring"

**I meant to post a oneshot yesterday (since it was Valentine's Day and all), but time got away from me. Regardless, it's been posted now. There are a few notes (look for the *'s), which I elaborated upon at the bottom. Other than that, not much to say here. This story is mostly a deeper look into Abby's past as a tailor, and a bit of Hook's growing interest in her. If anything about the sewing/tailoring is incorrect, I'm sorry. That specific feminine art is beyond my understanding. Enjoy!**

Sitting cross-legged on the carpeted floor of her den, fabric and thread strewn in a chaotic mess about her, Abby searched impatiently, attention completely focused on the task before her. Pulling a piece of dark blue silk up to her view, she studied it through the enormous goggles dwarfing her face. Very carefully, she began a tight and efficient row of stitches along its edge, hands moving deftly across the smooth fabric. As she set it aside and reached for an equally dark section of purple, Hook meandered in, dropping lazily onto the couch behind her. He barked out a laugh, jolting her out of her stupor. Turning to glare at him did nothing but further his mirth.

"What on _Earth _are you laughing about _now_?" she demanded, brown eyes sharp and exceptionally large behind the goggles' enormous frames. He gestured to her face with his hook, causing her eyebrows to knit together in continued confusion.

"Your goggles. They are absolutely hideous." Frowning now, she slowly moved the spectacles to the top of her deep cherry colored head.

"I don't use them because they're _fashionable_," she scolded, absentmindedly toying with the fabric in her lap. "They're enchanted to greatly magnify whatever one is working with – in my case, the fabric, thread, and needles. It's a great use if you're at a task for a long while."

He nodded, finally understanding. "What are you making, anyway? And _why _are you? Surely you can afford to buy the equivalent."

She reached down to pick up a needle, reinserting it into the pincushion strapped about her arm. "It's a jacket. Each proper tailor has a specialty – tunics, dresses, breeches, etcetera.* Mine is jackets. I refuse to buy one made by any other; they are _always _inferior."

"My, my, Your Majesty, pride _does_ become you," he said with a grin, causing her to send him another dark glare. Pulling the lenses back over her eyes, she chose to ignore him, reimbursing herself in her work. He watched her with fascination as she held a ruby colored strip of material up against the blue one, tilting her head slightly to consider it. Nodding, she grabbed a larger swatch of the red, running a finger down the piece. As her finger followed along, the silk gently separated, leaving her with two wide strips. She shook her head slightly and frowned, repeating the action until the two became four.

"Don't you have anything better to do than sit about observing me work?" she muttered, pulling the blue back toward her. Taking the piece, which looked suspiciously like a sleeve, she reached for her cushion, selecting a needle without glancing at him.

He shrugged, tucking his feet under him. "There is nothing for me to do here, now that you've forbidden my revenge on the Crocodile." If she had glimpsed up at that moment, she would have certainly been startled by the intensity of his eyes on her. He enjoyed these moments, when she was so focused on a task that he could watch her without fear of her noticing. It was an opportunity he wished he had more of.

"You _must _have some other interests, Hook. I'm sure you could find _something _to do while you're stuck here." She lifted her head, giving him a brief opportunity to clear his face before she turned to him. "There are so many differences in this world than in ours, Killian – surely you could discover one to explore further."

He was thrown when she used his first name – so few did anymore. It felt right coming from her tongue. Shaking his head slightly to clear it, he gestured back at the fabric in her hands. "Perhaps I should take up tailoring. It doesn't appear too complicated."

Her gaze narrowed in deep fury, causing her to stand abruptly and stomp towards him. He leaned back into the couch cushions, a bit fearful as she stepped straight up to his face. "Tailoring is a carefully practiced and long developed art, _Killian James Hook._ Every stitch, every fold, is painstakingly measured and timed for exacting perfection. Decent tailors are uncommon, true ones rare." He felt his breath catch as she leaned forward, whispering next to his. "Remember _that _the next time you claim tailoring to not 'appear too complicated.'" Nodding in satisfaction, she stepped away and returned to the floor, going back to her work as if nothing happened. Hook let out his breath as she ignored him, astounded. He had never met a woman more defiant, infuriating…or perfectly paired for him. It was unfortunate he was so little inclined to find himself a mate.**

*** I have no idea if this is true. I literally made all of this up to serve the purpose of my story and show Abby's character. In fact, I know next to nothing about sewing/tailoring, so if anything's incorrect…well, I'm sorry. I plead ignorance.**

**** SEE WHAT I DID THERE?! Yes, I did just point out a plot point I made. No, I am not ashamed. In fact, I think I'm rather clever. So there.**


End file.
